


The Cat and the Dog

by Seigetsu_Ren



Series: Unrelated YukiSayo Shorts [10]
Category: BanG Dream! Girl's Band Party! (Video Game)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Cohabitation, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drabble (sort of?), Established Relationship, F/F, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, POV Alternating, POV First Person, POV reflects character bias but is generally reliable, Self Confidence Issues, yukina is a power bottom lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-24 11:05:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17703188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seigetsu_Ren/pseuds/Seigetsu_Ren
Summary: Sayo reflects on Yukina's similarities to a cat. Little does she know Yukina does the same, comparing her to a big, fluffy dog.





	1. Yukinya the Cat

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little exercise on writing in present tense and in first person POV. The first chapter is in Sayo POV while the second will be in Yukina POV. Enjoy!

I mean no disrespect when I say this, but Minato-san greatly resembles a cat.

It is a thought that often enters my mind as I observe Minato-san. Do not misunderstand - I do not purposely stare at Minato-san or anything! We are…well…cohabiting, so it is only logical that I would see her often.

Minato-san insisted that we place our bed by the window when we first moved in. Naturally she took the window side. She spends a lot of time by the window when song-writing, spacing out at a view of the streets below while bathing in warm sunlight. It is not a good idea to disturb her when she is in such state, especially if she happens to fall asleep curled up by the window sill. I will admit that it is rather tempting to run a hand down her hair or stroke her back when she looks so adorable…like a cat! There is no other meaning to this! But if you wake her, she would glare at you and stalk off for the couch which, of course, is also placed by a window.

That isn’t to say Minato-san is always so averse to closeness. Minato-san is a person of principle and high expectations and it is obvious that this is always reflected in her demeanour, though I have come to find that she is not as… “impassive” by evening. “Sayo, is dinner ready?” is her usual greeting after her late afternoon nap (she usually takes one after we come home from practice). Minato-san is not very picky with food and would readily consume anything that isn’t bitter, even when it is directly from a pan. Thankfully, she no longer does that after once burning her fingers on a piece of honey-glazed ham. It reminds me of a kitten trying to swoop up a goldfish but jerks its paw back when it touches the water. She now takes up the task of setting the table, though if dinner isn’t done by the time she is finished, she may return to the kitchen and loom over my shoulder to inspect my progress.

Dinner is usually spent in silence – it is bad manners to speak while eating, and Minato-san regards her food with high respect. Minato-san doesn’t eat a lot, but if something is particularly appealing to her palate, she may stare at the empty dish until I suggest if she would like a second helping. She takes care of the dishes after the meal, and then returns to the table to enjoy her after-dinner coffee, made with ample milk and four cubes of sugar. She says it is energy for her brain, as she usually works very hard and late into the night on her compositions. She often asks my opinion during those times. On the occasion when she is temporarily out of inspiration, she may lounge around aimlessly, although perhaps by habit, she would still seek me out regardless of where I may be in the apartment or what I may be doing. She once walked in on me while I was playing a rhythm game; finding me unresponsive as I was tiering hard for an event, she started singing _Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star_ right outside the bedroom door. It must be a tactic borrowed from Toyama-san, and embarrassingly, it worked well. There was no way I could continue playing when my back muscles cringed so hard. Much like a cat sitting on your keyboard, shielding the monitor, Minato-san’s presence is unignorable when she chooses to make it so.

It is not my intention to paint Minato-san as a selfish person. That is quite the opposite. There are times when I regret this wretched personality of mine. I can be unsure of myself. I can doubt my own worth. But when I become consumed by that kind of self-loathing, Minato-san would always be there for me. She doesn’t speak much other than a simple “I believe in you.” But that is all I need, for I know it is truth – Minato-san only speaks the truth after all. She would sit by me silently, never prodding, never giving useless advice unless I ask. When the self-loathing is especially strong, I may hold onto her, and she would remain in my arms until I feel better. That, too, is a little like a cat – it is normally so proud and individualistic, but when you need it, it would come to you, curled in your lap to keep you company.

There is one point about Minato-san where the cat analogy falls short – that is, her physical dexterity. While I would never worry about a cat climbing up to a tall place, I am very much worrying as Minato-san stands tip-toed on a foot stool, trying to reach for a stack of plates on the top drawer. It is normally a good thing that Minato-san is so self-confident – I admire her for that trait. But it can be a little dangerous when she overestimates her abilities like now. Even if she can reach the plates with her fingertips, what are the chances she could bring them down safely, especially given that her grip strength is barely enough to squish pudding? “Let me grab them for you, Minato-san,” I say, but she ignores me. Sure enough, she loses footing and falls forward. I grip her tightly at the waist to prevent her head from hitting the drawers.

“Are you alright?” I ask. Minato-san nods, finally stepping down from the stool. I climb on in her stead.

“I am sorry to bother you with such a small task again,” she says. I turn back to smile.

“It is no bother. Please depend more on me.”

“But it is because I depend so much on you that I wish to do more,” she answers. By now, I have retrieved the plates. I place them on the counter before I address Minato-san again.

“You already do a lot for me.” I reach out for her hands. Though I’ve touched them many times by now, I am still nervous. I hope my palms aren’t sweating. “You help me move forward. That is all that matters.”


	2. Sayo the Doggo

Sayo is a dog - a big husky that looks intimidating at first but is as soft on the inside as the outside. See, dogs like to bark when you first meet them, right? But that is all there is to Sayo. Some bark. Once she sniffs you out she will follow you and keep nagging you to pet her.

Sayo is an early bird…dog. She wakes at dawn and that is when she starts nagging. She does her morning routine – brush her teeth and wash her face then cook breakfast – all the while coming in and out of our bedroom for no other reason than to stare at me until I finally get out of bed. Her nagging continues throughout breakfast – about how my lack of exercise is bad for my health and I should join her on her after-meal jog. She leaves me no choice but to agree. She is a dog after all, and dogs like to go out on walks. I know it is all for my own good, and the exercise does improve my lung capacity, so I am not completely against the idea, but it can be annoying when she is so insistent even on days when it is raining, snowing or the temperature has dropped down to zero. In addition, we must then share our very small bathroom to bathe off the sweat, so we can make it to practice clean and punctual. It is an unnecessary inconvenience.

During practice, Sayo switches from eager dog to obedient dog. She is always ready, always at attention, taking my every word as an absolute command. When I criticize her, she would sulk, but she would try harder and aim higher until she earns my praise. When I do praise her, she becomes flustered. It is rather cute if I must be honest. But Sayo is not a mere subordinate. She is my equal, my partner. Her sound guides me. I can rely on her presence beside me. She is the husky that pulls my sled – one cannot live without the other.

Sayo says she does not like how her hair curls, but I prefer its volume – it is very nice to brush your fingers through, akin a blanket of fluffy wool. On a cold day, holding Sayo is even nicer than hiding under the kotatsu. She is warm and feels wonderful to touch. Her reaction is also adorable. She would never say that she enjoys the intimacy, but if you stop, she would stare at you with puppy eyes until you resume. Sayo is usually a guarded person, but those are the times when she relaxes and shows you her true self.

Dogs are sensitive and loyal. Sayo is much the same. I pride myself for my conviction, but conviction alone is not always adequate for overcoming all difficulties. There are times when I must re-evaluate my choices, times when I realize that I might have made a mistake and must walk back on my path to take another one to the desired outcome. Such self-reflection is not an easy task, and I admit my temper may sometimes get the better of me, causing me to take out my frustration on others and myself. Sayo does not indulge me during those times. She will criticize me harshly if that is what is needed, and I am grateful for that. But never once would I doubt her devotion. She will not leave me. She knows I am affected by negativity. She understands. The quiet companionship she offers then, the patience she gives while I work out the problems by my own strength and with her support, propels me to grow as a person.

Is there any aspect of Sayo that is not dog-like? I admit I am no expert when it comes to dogs, so my only line of reference is Shirasagi-san’s puppy, Leon. Leon is very bold with his affection. He would climb onto your lap and lick your face at first meeting. Sayo is far more timid. She would wait for my touch; she would reciprocate hesitantly. While dogs are honest creatures, Sayo can be irritatingly reserved. She has a tendency of hiding her feelings on matters big and small. It takes experience to decipher her, but such effort is worthwhile, if not just for the challenge it presents. Of course, I do have genuine concern for her – she needs to be more forward, and I take it upon myself to give her the push to make that happen. And she repays such effort with always more, not less. Though it goes without saying, the most daring Sayo isn’t a face of her to be shown to all in public, such as the way she is acting right now.

“Minato-san…” Her breath falls on my nape. She has finally given into my suggestion and slowly but firmly wraps her arms around me under the covers. I continue to stay still. It is a crucial part of this exercise. If I give in now, she would revert to her usual shyness.

She holds me tighter. I can feel her chest on my back, her legs rub my own. Her hands are starting to wander, her lips pressed against the side of my neck left exposed when my hair falls and pools on the mattress. I must say, breaking Sayo down does take a tremendous amount of restraint, and that restraint is about to slip from my grip.

“Call my name,” I say to her, my voice disappointingly lacking in control. I will have to practise harder tomorrow, but that is not something to think about now.

“Yu…Yukina.”

The stutter is something to fix in the future. I will take it as a work in progress. I turn around to face her; predictably she kisses me, finally with some dominance after all the training I have invested in.

Perhaps Sayo is quite dog-like after all.

The rest is a story for closed doors. You have no right to hear it, for Sayo is mine and mine alone.


End file.
